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She shouldn’t have accepted that last beer. The world is spinning and it’s mildly sickening. Cuddy makes her way through the crowd, trying to avoid the gaze of the curious partygoers and the occasional wandering hands. Her classmates aren’t used to see her like that. She tries to remember why it’s bad, to get drunk before finals week, but suddenly she can’t remember and it makes her guffaw. She feels good.
She can’t remember why she left the living room where she was talking with Steven – Steven is handsome, she shouldn’t have left – but the sickness comes back and she tries to go for the bathroom. Where is the bathroom again? She’s pretty sure Sarah showed her around before the party started. It’s Sarah’s house, or rather Sarah’s-parents’-house. And Sarah’s going to be pissed if Cuddy pukes on the carpet. So she looks for Sarah’s-parents’-house’s-toilets.
She pushes a door on her left and catches a glimpse of an undressed couple. Giggling again, she makes for the next door, which is the bathroom, finally. Cuddy barges in, doesn’t notice the lanky man seating on the bathtub, gags over the toilets, and passes out.
Cuddy wakes up on the cold hard tile floor of Sarah’s bathroom, and decides she doesn’t want to open her eyes just yet. It’s still a bit fuzzy, Steven, the beers, and the music… Her head is pulsing and she thinks she wetted herself. Surprisingly, she feels very calm.
Until an unknown individual places a glass of water in her hand. Stranger danger.
She jerks awake and sends the glass flying across the tiny room, knocking the stranger in the face.
“OUCH! Stop flailing! You already ruined my shoes and my stash, don’t touch my face! Why do I always end up with the drunkards…”
Before she can specify that she’s not drunk, just tipsy, thank you very much, another wave of sickness hits her. Cuddy senses the two strong arms lifting her up clumsily so she can spew in the toilet instead of onto herself. She catches a glimpse of the pool of vomit she’s sitting in, of the long fingers and the venous hands, and at her feet, the ‘stash’ he must be talking about, the white powder in little bags and the used syringe. At least she didn’t really wet herself.
He offers her another glass of water.
“What happened?”, she chokes. (She feels a bit like sobbing, but she’s determined not to go there yet.)
“You fainted… straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremities…” There is the hint of a wink in his voice.
Is he really flirting right now? She’s not sure and she doesn’t want to know. The man grabs her wrist without a warning and holds it very steadily while looking at his watch. She finally gets a chance to see his face. She immediately spots the too-wide pupils and the thin, bright ring of blue around them. His face is a little emaciated, there are bags under his eyes. Other than that, he’s handsome – a lot better that Steven.
“You don’t look high.”
“Well, you fell on me before I could get my second dose. Your pulse is not too bad. What did you take?”
“I’m not high”, she pushes him in the shoulder jokingly, “you are!”
“Yeah, right. I’m not the one giggling like a little girl!” He pauses, gauging her an instant before grinning a little too widely. “Let’s get you up.”
They manage to get her to her feet, despite their lack of balance and the slippery pool near the lavatory. She finds herself pressed against him and she discovers she doesn’t mind. He doesn’t push back, so that’s a good sign.
“What’s your name? I’m Lisa Cuddy, by the way. I think I drank too much.”
“Greg House.”
“You’re not a student.”
“Nope. I graduated ages ago. I’m a doctor now.”
“I want to be a doctor.” She says without thinking.
“Then you should stop puking at parties.”
“You can speak! Anyway, What are you doing here, if you’re not a student? It’s illegal.”
She doesn’t mention the drugs at her feet, it’s pretty self-explanatory.
“Yeah… right. Gotta go.”
He drops his hands at his side so quickly she loses balance for a while.
“What?”
“And you should get out of this bathroom too.” He points at the door with his thumb. “The cops are here.”
“Shit...”
The next morning, she wakes up in an unknown bed with a monstrous head ache, and decides she’s never going to see Gregory House ever again.
“After the fractured skull, it was stupid.” Cuddy helps him to sit up on the border of his bed, like he’s an old man already.
Maybe he is, he thinks bitterly. Old, and alone already. Amber is dead. Wilson is gone.
“It was the only way.”
“Sure, and look how it went! Convulsions! With your scalp open! You’re lucky you don’t have any permanent damage!”
“Yeah, I get it.”
She’s been fussing around him all week. How could she manage a hospital while being at his side almost 24 hours a day? He’s getting better now, and he wants to be alone.
“I can get up myself.”
“Are you sure?”
He sends her a glare that would have make the other staff scatter in panic, but she simply stares back with a faint expression of concern in her eyes.
“Yes, I’m sure. Back off.”
He holds onto his cane with all the force he can muster and pushes himself off the bed. Standing up, he already feels more like himself. Everything is under control.
“You see? I’m still…”
The word “standing” never comes, and he falls apart as the world suddenly turns black.
“Hey! I’ve got you!”
She tries not to marvel at how perfectly they fit together, her hands on his back, his head on her shoulder. If it wasn’t for House’s dead weight crushing her, she would stay like this forever. She thinks she deserves to enjoy the moment a bit. She slowly puts him down on the bed as he regains consciousness.
“You fainted!” She tries not to chuckle nervously, but everything about this situation reminds her of their first meeting, and she finds it hilarious, as if the beers of that fateful night had come back to haunt her. “Right into my arms! You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremities… And you didn’t have to drool all over me either!” She wipes her shoulder with a tissue, tossing it in the bin without looking. “But I guess that’s revenge for the puke on your shoes!”
“Cuddy…” House’s voice is only a pained whisper, and her head snaps up immediately. Something is wrong. He’s pointing at her with a trembling finger.
“I don’t think that’s drool.”
She looks down at her shoulder, which was soaked with the blood coming out of House’s ears. When she looks up again, he’s flat-lining.